Disclaimer: Do not own The 100 or Marvel
Wild instinct
Natasha in no way surprised, had found that Clarke had been out in the wilderness. Even if she hadn't smelled the pine and the maple and moss on Clarke, before Clarke had shed her clothes and stepped into the shower, she could tell as soon as Clarke had come into Natasha's bed.
As soon as the young blonde hopped into Natasha's bed and Natasha let her under the covers, Clarke's time out in the wild had been made clear. The younger woman in the past had clawed at the windows or at the doors when she wanted to be let in.
When she could tell that Natasha and Clarke's other romantic partner soulmates didn't like when she did that-apparently because they didn't like Clarke reducing herself to an animal like nature-claiming that she was lower than an animal or something. Personally, Clarke didn't get why they were worried about that, but she stopped.
She snuggled close to Natasha and was surrounded by the gorgeous redhead's scent.
Clarke growled and her eyes flashed red with arousal. The way she nuzzled all along Natasha's body, spoke to her time in the wild, her time around wolves, specifically.
As Clarke snuggled against Natasha the way a wolf would snuggle against their fellow packmates.
Natasha smirked and held Clarke closer, pulling the covers over them and cooing to her little girl, "Been in the woods, malyshka?"
While Clint, Laura and their children, including Natasha weren't against Clarke running around the woods if she wanted, but they didn't like her being away from home that long. Clarke always was startled when her family referred to this place as Clarke's home, even though she always had seen it as such-because she was positive that they would reject her eventually.
But they had not rejected her. Not yet.
As Clarke and Natasha snuggled together under the heavy blankets in the bedroom that Clint and Laura had put into the house for the two of them, Natasha knew Clarke was eager for sex now.
Granted, both of them always were. They both loved sex, completely.
But Natasha always knew that Clarke craved sex particularly after coming back from her run in the depths of the woods.
Being near the animals made Clarke wilder-more animalistic.
Spending hours, sometimes even as long as days in the wild? It made Clarke more feral than usual. And whenever she came back, with slashes in her pants and her sleeves, her pockets stuffed with snake skin, snake rattles, bear or wolf fangs, raven or crow feathers, owl feathers, and sometimes even animal bones, her hair full of leaves and stickers, her face a mask of primal joy. As if she had never known any joy better than the freedom of the wild.
Thankfully, she hadn't quite been as bedraggled when she showed up tonight. And she had showered before getting into bed with Natasha, anyway.
Clarke growled into Natasha's neck, saying nothing, just growling with need.
Natasha smiled and embraced Clarke closely, knowing that it was a growl and whine of need not of anger or anything like that.
Clarke needn't say anything. Natasha knew.
She pulled Clarke flush to herself and pushed her left leg between Clarke's legs, her knee grinding up against Clarke's cunt.
"Want me, don't you, moy malen'kiy olenenok?" Natasha asked Clarke seductively and Clarke groaned.
She would have rolled her eyes at that pet name that she had just been given by Natasha. That name was, translated from Russian to English, was "my little fawn," had she not been currently completely aroused and was being distracted by Natasha's grinding of her leg against her young lover's groin.
She would have rolled her eyes at the nickname, had Natasha not been grinding against her with her knee, because, needless to say, she was no "fawn." She might physically be of age, but she was young, certainly. However, she was no damn fawn.
Fawns were helpless, small, baby herbivores.
Clarke was a predator. In every sense of the word.
The mountains of meat she had torn out and exposed to the world, meat she had carved out of her victims, and the fountains of blood she had drunk over the years would attest to that one.
Yet, Natasha always called Clarke that.
Why, Clarke didn't know, but hell if she cared.
As long as Natasha kept grinding against her, she didn't give a damn.
Oh, but she'd be giving one hell of a fuck soon, wouldn't she?
She grinded herself all along Natasha's thigh as Natasha ground her long, muscled, naked leg between Clarke's legs and against Clarke's cunt.
"Please, I need more, mommy." Clarke said to Natasha.
Natasha's smile turned to a sly smirk.
"I know you do," Natasha answered, "And I'll give you more, malen'kiy."
Clarke was naked and so when Natasha took hold of the younger woman's left breast in her right hand, and squeezed tenderly, and when she felt Natasha's other hand go to Clarke's clit and began stroking it with the pad of her thumb, one stroke after the other, making Clarke thrash and cry out, head thrown back as she bucked against Natasha's hand and knee, she in no way was surprised.
Very pleased, yes, but not surprised.
Natasha, in turn, was not surprised when Clarke let loose a howl when she climaxed, how not unlike a wolf. Very, very pleased, but not surprised.
After all, Clarke was at her most primal when she had been in the woods for long periods of time.
And even after Natasha made Clarke cum that time, she didn't stop.
She kept going.
After bringing torrent of pleasure after torrent of pleasure from Clarke and Clarke, in turn, having done the same to her beloved Natasha, pleasuring her Widow again and again, the two of them snuggled together anew under the covers, still naked, soaked in sweat and cum, exhausted, eventually coming down from their shaking.
Natasha rested her forehead against Clarke's and whispered softly, "Satisfied, malen'kiy?"
Clarke chuckled, grinning as she let out an exhausted little huff, "What do you think, beautiful?"
Natasha smirked and lowered her head, resting it against Clarke's right shoulder. She held herself against Clarke tightly, so that the two of them were close against each other than when they first had gotten under the covers together.
"I love you, my little wild girl." Natasha said to Clarke.
Clarke gave a small whine, nuzzling into Natasha's neck further.
"I love you too, Nat." Clarke whispered and Natasha recognized the fear in Clarke's voice. Whenever Clarke got very vulnerable, Natasha knew what Clarke feared.
Abandonment.
Abandonment, like all the other abandonments she had experienced previously.
Natasha held Clarke closer somehow, and stroked Clarke's hair, cooing in Clarke's ear as she held the younger woman.
The next morning, Clarke and Natasha had gotten up, had sex again, then went into the shower and fucked again-Clarke had braced her hands against the tiled shower walls as Natasha had kneeled between her legs and had devoured her, and Clarke had howled in pleasure as she had bucked her hips against Natasha's mouth and tongue and eventually, Clarke's hands, as well.
They stayed in that shower, for a while.
The shower blasted over the two of them as Natasha dominated Clarke and grinded against the younger woman and they orgasmed together, and fisted Clarke, spanked her, throttled Clarke as she thrust her fingers into Clarke, bringing Clarke to her next climax. When Natasha put her hand around Clarke's throat and made sure that Clarke knew it was there, Natasha reminded Clarke that Clarke should use her safe word if she didn't want to do this, but Clarke shook her head and pleaded with Natasha to go through with it because she wanted to, well, how could Natasha refuse?
Natasha squeezed Clarke's throat lightly and fucked Clarke hard with her fingers, Clarke's screams and howls filling the bathroom.
Afterwards, Natasha went down to her knees and devoured Clarke's pussy for what had to have been the thirtieth time by that time between last night and this morning together, and she smirked as she licked and sucked at Clarke's clit and thrust her tongue or fingers into Clarke's cunt, when her ears were filled soon with more of Clarke's cries and moans, as the torpedoes of water from the showerhead bathed them.
When they finally got out of the shower, dried themselves off and dressed, they headed downstairs and went to the living room where Clint, Laura and the kids were eating breakfast and Natasha took Clarke's hand in her own and Natasha led Clarke to the living room.
Natasha pulled Clarke down, the two of them sitting next to each other, across from Jessie, Jillian and her lover and romantic partner soulmate, Mary, Cooper, Zachary and Lila to the right of them. Clint, Laura and Nathaniel sitting along the sofa. Nathaniel was sitting on the end of the sofa and quickly got up off the sofa when Clarke and Natasha sat down and went over to Clarke and dropped down onto Clarke's lap, sitting on the young, predatory godlike being's lap.
Clarke chuckled as Nathaniel did that, giving a little growl at the boy, though everyone heard it and knew that it was nothing but a playful growl.
Wolves often growled at each other playfully.
Clarke looked down at Nathaniel's face, lips peeled back, growling at the boy as Nathaniel leaned his head back against Clarke's chest, grinning back up at her and growling back. The little four-year-old had never been scared of Clarke. He adored her, and Natasha.
Nathaniel growled at Clarke playfully and Clarke growled back at him.
Laura brought plates of food over to Natasha and Clarke and said to Clarke and Nathaniel, "You two, quit it with the growling, children. And eat your food."
Laura sat down on the sofa next to her husband and romantic partner soulmate, Clint and shared a smirk with her other adopted daughter, Natasha.
Nathaniel and Clarke kept playfully growling at each other, as Nathaniel went back to his food and Clarke scooped some of her food up, earning the occasional chuckle from Natasha, Laura and several of the other family members.
It surprised neither Clint, nor Laura, that Clarke and Natasha had taken a long time in their room. Natasha and Clarke obviously missed each other after a few days separation.
It didn't surprise either of them as well that Clarke growled at them a little every now and then, especially when she and the other kids played.
After all, Clarke got at her most wild, when she was in the woods.
And they weren't worried. Because why would a wolf attack its own pack?